A Day Of Victory
by the-original-lovelace
Summary: The reappearance of the curse breaker, the supposed vanguard of her own destruction, was something in which she should have lamented not reveled. But she did want to celebrate it. In fact, she could think of few things she wanted to do more. Swan Queen. Set after S02E09. One Shot.


**My first Swan Queen, , it's ridiculous how excited I am about this. Anyways, you don't wanna hear (read) my ramblings. Enjoy!**

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**General Disclaimer:**

The characters in this story don't belong to me – though I often wish they did – but _are_ copyrighted to their respective owners so, let me make it clear that I will make _no_ profits off of _any_ of these stories. So, you know, please don't sue me.

**Personal Disclaimer:**

If you don't like _Once Upon A Time,_ Swan Queen aka ReginaxEmma_,_ or girlxgirl pairings in general than read no further. You've been warned in an effort to save both your time and mine.

Oh, and please remember that there _is_ a difference between a critical critique and a flame.

So, now that all of the unpleasantness is out of the way, please enjoy _A Day Of Victory  
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Roughly two weeks had passed since Emma had returned to Storybrooke and this was the first moment any of them had had a chance to catch their breath. With Cora's arrival and the looming threat of Hook's revenge, there hadn't been time to acknowledge her homecoming, let alone celebrate it. Not that Regina should have wanted to celebrate in the first place. The reappearance of the curse breaker, the supposed vanguard of her own destruction, was something in which she should have lamented not reveled. And that was without mentioning that she'd returned with her most hated enemy in tow, the savior's own mother, the illustrious Snow White.

But, despite numerous attempts to convince herself otherwise, she _did_ want to celebrate. In fact, she could think of few things she wanted to do more and every one of them involved Miss Swan in one way or another.

So much had happened since she'd left, so much had changed. What they were, what they had been…it wasn't enough anymore. She didn't know why, really. Perhaps it was the echo of Daniel's last words ringing almost constantly in her ears or the way the ever-present temptation to use magic seemed to lessen whenever their eyes met, even for the briefest of moments.

Whatever the case, as Emma strode purposefully towards her, her silvery gaze flickering with emotions Regina found herself unable – or perhaps simply unwilling – to read into, she was powerless to do anything but wait.

She stopped less than an arm's length away, still not speaking, and Regina wondered fleetingly if they had exchanged a single word that hadn't been about the battle. If they had, she found she couldn't remember it and that was a realization that made her far sadder than she was sure it should have.

She watched as those achingly familiar gunmetal gray eyes continued their painstakingly thorough assessment of her body, wordlessly gauging her state of injury and, in the process, leaving her struggling to remember how to breathe. It'd been a long time since she had been close enough to feel the power in that gaze and even longer since she'd felt the equally enrapturing touch of its owners' hands…

Mentally shaking herself from her reverie and silently willing her body to remember that she was in charge of it and not the other way around, she cleared her throat, noticing with amusement that Emma didn't halt her appraisal at the sound. "Miss Swan," she said, proud of the way her voice didn't waver despite the erratic hammering of her heart.

"Ms. Mills," she replied, her lips allowing the ghost of a smile to appear before abruptly falling away as her eyes locked onto one of Regina's many wounds.

The one that seemed to have arrested her gaze lay on the outer side of her right hip. Though not truly one of her worst, it was undoubtedly one of the worst looking – close to a day and a half had passed since it's receiving and yet it still bled freely – not that she'd paid it or any of her injuries much mind beyond the bandaging. In her defense, she had had other things on her mind.

"You're hurt," she said, her voice laden with concern.

She barely contained the urge to roll her eyes at the obviousness of the statement. Of course she was hurt; practically everyone was. Only a lucky few had emerged from the last battle unscathed, and she was nowhere near fortunate enough to be counted among their number. Frankly, she was happy to have survived at all, considering her mother had been just as vindictively cruel as she'd remembered her to be. Not that she'd dared to expect otherwise, of course.

But, appreciating Emma's concern, she offered what she hoped to be a satisfactorily noncommittal shrug. "It's nothing time won't heal," she said, rubbing idly at her arm and barely containing the urge to wince as her fingertips brushed the edges of a wound she hadn't yet noticed. Perhaps healing _should_ rank a little higher of her list of things to do now that the threat of battle lay firmly behind them. "But yo-you're looking well," she managed, her voice breaking despite her efforts to the contrary.

Honestly, she looked like hell. Her long hair hung in sweaty tangles around her face and her armor – something she was both pleased and not so to see the blonde so effortlessly sporting – was caked in a sickening combination of dirt and blood. Thankfully it seemed most of it was not her own. Still, there was more than one gash that stood stark against the natural pallor of her skin and it was only Regina's nearly painful awareness of their location that kept her from reaching out to stroke the unblemished skin in between, if only to assure herself that, despite her many wounds, Miss Swan was more or less intact.

"Funny," she began wryly. "'Cos I feel like hell,"

"Well, perhaps next time you'll think before you attempt at playing the white knight our son imagines you to be," she snapped, unable to stop herself. If pressed, she'd have blamed her emotional candor on sleep deprivation. If pressed harder however, she might've admitted the truth.

Emma raised a single golden brow and Regina barely managed to contain a contented sigh at the familiarity of the gesture. "'Our son'?" she repeated, making the brunette tense reflexively before offering a firm nod.

"I suppose there's nothing I can do about you now, is there?" she asked rhetorically, already knowing the answer. "I believe he's quite taken with you,"

It was an understatement, of course. Henry would most likely cast _her_ aside long before he would the blonde. His attitude towards her had improved greatly since she'd allowed him to leave with Charming, and even more so since Emma and that _woman's_ return from Fairytale Land – made possible by her own actions, she might add – but there was still a gap between them. The tightness in her chest and the dark whispers at the back of her mind suggested there always would be.

Emma offered her a small smile and the sight of it pulled her from her less than encouraging thoughts with a swiftness she was unspeakably grateful for. "I got that," she said, almost cockily. But then, with the utmost care, she reached up and pressed her hand to her cheek and, just like that, the rest of the world seemed to fade away and Regina couldn't help but lean into the warmth of her touch. "But I can't help but wonder what his…other mother thinks of me," she continued, her voice now compellingly low and thick with meaning.

Her breath caught in her throat and, as her tongue darted out to wet her suddenly dry lips, she searched valiantly for the ability to form words. "I…" she trailed off, distracted by the frantic rhythm her heart had decided to set beneath her breast. While her mind screamed at her to pull away, to once more slip behind her mask of cool indifference and hide behind her self-made walls, her heart persisted, steadfastly urging her to speak the words that weighted her tongue.

And, as she opened her mouth to speak, she couldn't help but think that it had always been a stubborn organ. "I think…I think you'll find her much the same,"

Emma's smile widened and she felt her own lips twitch traitorously in response. "You think so?" she asked, her voice holding a challenge that Regina was unwilling to let slip by.

"I know so," she breathed.

As she leaned towards her, the world seemed to slow in time with her descent and Regina couldn't help the way her eyelids fluttered closed. But, before their lips met, Emma stopped short and, though she was now close enough for her breath to mingle with Regina's own in a way that nearly made the brunette whimper, she made no further move to reach her destination.

Confused, she opened her eyes and her mouth, determined to know what _precisely_ she thought she was doing but the second Emma's eyes met her own, she felt more than heard herself gasp as the strength of the emotions she saw swirling in their storm gray depths shook her to her very core.

Emma _loved_ her. It was as plan as if she'd spoken the words aloud. She had for a long time, long before she'd fallen through the portal, perhaps even before she'd saved her from the fire, the first time it would have been easier for the blonde to let her die. And now, now she was offering her the greatest gift she could: a choice. A chance to try, to attempt something she was sure she didn't deserve but wanted so desperately. A chance for her own happily ever after.

So few things in Regina's life had truly been her choice. Snow's betrayal, the loss of Daniel, her marriage to Leopold, even the intoxicating lure of magic, all of these things had been out of her control. But if she chose this…it would be _hers_.

She didn't hesitate.

Surging upwards, she captured her mouth with her own in a searing kiss that spoke all the words she didn't yet dare give voice to. Without hesitation, their lips moved together in a seemingly endless rhythm that was both heart-wrenchingly familiar and distinctly not so. No matter; she had a lifetime to learn every step in the breathtakingly sensual dance they had just begun. They both did.

From somewhere over Emma's shoulder she could have sworn she heard an anguished cry but it sounded very far away in comparison to the blood rushing in her ears and she found herself less than interested in its' origins. In fact, so distracted was she by the feel of the arms encircling her waist and the lips moving against her own, she didn't feel the heady pulse of magic that burst from the pair of hem, making every head in the clearing whip towards the pair in disbelief.

Eventually, the lure of oxygen was too much for either women to ignore and they broke apart, their faces flushed and chests heaving. Emma rested her forehead against her own, seemingly as unwilling as she was to break the contact, even for a moment, and met her eyes once more. "I love you," she whispered, the huskiness of her voice resounding in her ears loud enough to rival her own heartbeat.

"I love you too," she murmured, surprised at how easily the words came and how fiercely she meant them. And, as she smiled, she felt her heart swell with love for this woman, her savior, her white knight, her Emma.

As she leaned in for another kiss, this time she was sure she heard her former stepdaughter call her lovers name, But, since the blonde in question seemed less then inclined to end their embrace, she found the sound easy enough to ignore, at least for the moment.

Besides, the insanity that was their family tree was a problem for tomorrow and all the tomorrows after that. But today, today was meant for something better. It was a day of victory, of rejoicing, of happily ever afters.

And she wouldn't miss a moment of it.

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**R&R if you please (or if you don't please)**


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